


Heart Stopper

by jurdanhell



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: :), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Folk of the air, Jude - Freeform, Poison, QoN - Freeform, Queen of nothing - Freeform, cardan - Freeform, cardan greenbriar - Freeform, cardan greenbriar x jude duarte, cardan x jude - Freeform, jude duarte - Freeform, jude duarte x cardan greenbriar - Freeform, jude x cardan, jurdan - Freeform, oh man, tcp, tfota, that’s your warning, the cruel prince - Freeform, the folk of the air, the queen of nothing, the wicked king, tqon, twk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jurdanhell/pseuds/jurdanhell
Summary: Angsty two-shot. this is going to have a happy ending because i do not have the mental space to do anything else.TW:This fic contains the following, donotread if this is a potential trigger for you,your health is more important than a piece of fanfiction:being poisoned/drugged, death
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Comments: 30
Kudos: 146





	1. Chapter 1

Wonderous gowns spun with their wearers under the warm light of the lanterns that decorated the walls. Laughter echoed down the halls laced with mirth, all was well.

The High King of Elfhame stood making conversation with a head of one of the lower courts, his tail curled around his calf. Cardan hummed in agreement, not bothering to pay too much attention to the actual conversation. He swirled the wine in his goblet, the dark, bitter liquid aching to bite his tongue. He made comments every once in a while, and though he made a fair conversationalist when he was intrigued in the subject, it wasn’t uncommon to find that the High King’s attention lay elsewhere. 

Jude was discussing something with someone Cardan couldn’t see, their person blocked by the bodies dressed in extravagant clothing that rested in between them. Jude didn’t seem to be having a particularly happy conversation, stress eating her nerves, her hands restless at her sides.

Cardan was sure he felt a brush against his hand that held his wine, but found nothing that could’ve caused it when he took another glance. The lord he spoke with cleared their throat. Cardan dragged his gaze to meet theirs, wishing he could be many other places than anywhere that involved having this conversation. Whatever this conversation was, anyways. He couldn’t be sure.

Cardan excused himself the first moment he saw an opening that wouldn’t have been too insulting. He made his way across the room to Jude, draining the dregs of his wine in one long sip. His steps faltered slightly, his head spun. Maybe he’d had just a little more to drink than he’d realized.

Cardan handed the empty goblet off to someone, though he wasn’t entirely sure who, and wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, his hands resting on her hips. He heard the sharp intake of her breath, felt the small gasp that left her lips. He rested his chin on her shoulder, a sight that was more common than many liked to admit — their seeing the High King bent over the High Queen, only so he may rest himself on her. Only so he may touch her. Cardan smiled into her neck.

Jude patted his cheek, pet his hair. Cardan thought he’d heard her excuse herself from the conversation, considered telling her not to bother, when she’d turned into him. That made it quite difficult for him to rest his weight on her. Her turning threw him off balance, but he held his ground.

Cardan took Jude’s hand and placed his other on her hip. Jude raised a brow, curious. Cardan needn’t have even shot the musicians that lingered in the corner of the revel a look, his eyes never leaving Jude’s. His gaze was intense; it bore into her, it crawled inside her chest and squeezed her heart. Cardan spun her as the music started. Soft and slow and calm; and if you paid attention, if you listened closely, you could hear that his steps were in time with the rain battering against the stain glass windows. As dawn rose, the sunlight streaming in cast a colourful array onto the ground, bouncing off of dresses and illuminating faces once lit by soft moonlight, now lit by rainbows. One by one, others grabbed partners and joined.

Cardan smiled, his behaviour oddly intrepid. It was not that he was never bold, far from it. But to smile so openly, to laugh so loudly. He spun her again, entwining their fingers when they met again. He quickened his pace, pushing the beat of the song, silently urging others to do the same, the music racing in time to match. Jude glanced between him and those around them. 

Jude was not entirely practiced in this particular dance, but Cardan didn’t let her falter, didn’t give her the chance. And damn, Cardan’s smile was contagious. Jude smiled, too. And, admittedly, she was concerned with his behaviour at first. Then, she smelled the liquor on his breath. Smelled the bittersweet wine as he leaned in to peck her on the tip of her nose.

So Jude let him twirl her around the room. She let him pick the dance and the pace. She’d let him spin her until her stomach flipped, so long as he smiled like that.

It was wide, and warm. It was happy. And, even though Jude didn’t like to share Cardan, she didn’t mind sharing this. Sharing his smile, so blindingly beautiful, so soft and sweet that it could put many mortal candies to shame. So much so, that she dared say it fought for dominance with every sweet thing Jude could recall. The candies, yes. But perhaps it was also Oak’s giggles, tiny kittens, small flowers that Cardan often forged to scatter in her hair, her not finding them until much later.

So long as Cardan kept looking at her like that, would she play his drunken game. Tonight, Jude did not bear a dress. Instead, a dark green doublet adorned with golden fastenings incased her body, dark trousers dripping down her legs, meeting her black boots. Her black, soft leathered boots that Cardan had stolen from her one evening and returned with golden tips on their toes. Jude refused to let anyone else touch them because of it. 

Cardan swept her off her feet, quite literally, and lowered her into a dip as far as he dared. Jude’s hair graced the floor, and she sent a playful scowl his direction. Lifting her again, he braced her hips with his hands and spun her around him in the air. Jude landed and fell back into the crease of his elbow, her body entirely reliant on Cardan’s balance. A sense of trust that her body learned to have, perhaps just a moment too late.

He twirled Jude on her toes, catching her in his other arm. Cardan bent down and kissed her nose again, a soft giggle passing his lips. 

The song ended, the dance was over, and all had resumed their previous tasks. The soft chatter between the guests of the revel had steadily gone from a low murmur into an echoing madness of distorted voices. Cardan led Jude down the hall, slipping away from the festivities. He twirled her in the hall, his steps faltering slightly. As they progressed, soft laughs shared between them and gentle slaps on the shoulder, did they reach their chambers.

Cardan swept Jude into his arms and, tripping over his feet only once, did he make it to the bed they shared, setting her down gently among the soft coverlets as though she were the most fragile thing in the world. And, though he knew that was far from true, he’d be damned if he didn’t treat her in all the soft ways he truly believed she deserved. He removed his own crown, setting it on the bedside table, and then hers.

Cardan lifted a leg over her waist, straddling her. Jude cupped his face and brought his lips to hers. Cardan melted into her in a way that only she could make him. Jude hooked her hands around the back of his neck and wrapped her legs around his. Then, in one swift motion, she flipped him on his back, switching their respective positions. Jude sat on his stomach, taking his hands in hers. She rubbed her fingers over his knuckles gently, only meeting his eyes after she’d touched every last one. If she didn’t think the way he looked at her could’ve been any more intense before, she would’ve been horribly wrong. 

It was nothing new, for him to look at her like she’d pieced the world together. But, perhaps because she was his did he look as though he’d break anything too close, anyone sending her a wrong look. And though he was all too aware of how Jude could handle herself, he was also aware of how that could be a horrible idea when the occasion arose. 

With each of his hands in hers, Jude took both of Cardan’s hands above his head and pinned his wrists with one hand. She leaned in close, close enough to feel his breath hitch against her skin, brushed her nose along his. Brought her lips to his forehead, laced their fingers together. 

Cardan’s eyes closed, a heat flushing in his cheeks staining them a brilliant pink. He could hear his heart hammer in his ears and worked one of his hands free from Jude’s grasp, much to her dismay, and began to work the clasps on the back of her doublet. She decided that made up for it, and trailed the hand that had previously held his now-free wrist down the buttons of his shirt. She worked the buttons one handedly, moving slower than Cardan did with the clasps on the bodice of her doublet. Jude worked one button free, the another. Cardan discarded her doublet on the floor, resting his hands on her hips and looking up at her in such horrible ways, with such an intensity that stirred her stomach.

“You’re drunk,” Jude said, brushing the hair out of his face.

“And you’re beautiful,” Cardan replied, sitting up under her. Jude slipped so they both sat, her hands falling to his shoulders. She wrapped her legs around him, his tail curling around her. Cardan smiled, resting his forehead against hers.

“Don’t change the subject.” Cardan kissed her sweetly then, his arms holding the small of her back. Jude wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, threading her fingers through his hair. He lifted a tendril of her hair, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger. Cardan brought up his other hand and twisted a loose braid into a lock of hair. Jude watched him, curiosity catching her tongue and holding her still. She took the braid in her hand, and untwisted it carefully, watching the curiosity spread like a fever between them. Jude shifted, twisting in place, her back to him.

Cardan raked his fingers through her hair, folding one strand over another, picking up some new ones, and dropping others. Jude huffed, blowing the hair out of her eyes. It landed back in its place, obscuring her vision and preventing her from moving it further. Every time she tried, Cardan batted her hand away; she was certain she could hear his frown. 

There was a pull, somewhere deep inside her. It was like someone tied a tether to her waist, tugging every once in a while. Just enough to remind her, just enough to keep it on her mind. Cardan’s hands brushed against her neck, sweeping the hair up and letting it fall around her shoulders. He’d braided her hair into a crown. Cardan placed a hand just below each of her shoulders, rested his chin on the top of her head.

There was a sickeningly sweet smell of flowers, there was Cardan’s gentle breathing, as if he was falling asleep. His hands slipped, and took hers in his, holding her close. She could feel the thrum of his heart against her back, something deep and heavy, something unmatched to his breathing, his open smiles. Cardan chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Jude said, contemplating answers. A whirlwind of possibilities flooded around her, and there were too many variables to come up with any single solution.

Cardan lifted his chin from the crown of her head, dropping to her shoulder. He smiled against her skin. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be very funny,” he said softly, sending a chill down Jude’s spine. She felt the goose flesh rise on her skin, felt the way Cardan’s smile widened against her neck. Jude could play this game too, she decided.

Lightning struck the valley nearby, illuminating the room. If even for a second, when Jude had turned to face him as the light peaked through the curtains, did she look so horribly, hauntingly beautiful. Thunder rumbled, loud and low; heavier than it should’ve been. Jude caught sight of a flower obscuring her vision in the ephemeral light and snatched it from her hair. It’s petals laced with soft enchantment, a certain kind of adoration blooming in her grip. Cardan tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on the curve of her ear. 

There was a knock at the door, and they made a silent agreement that whatever it was could wait until tomorrow. Cardan brought his lips to Jude’s temple, her cheek. Down to the corner of her jaw, chaste and sweet. Another knock. 

A door opened, alarm bells ringing in Jude’s head. Something wasn’t right. It was as if the fire could sense the trepidation, the flicker in its flames mocking tumult, the cast of shadows against the walls a tribute to the light against the hearth. Cardan lifted Jude beside him swiftly, turning the coverlets over her chest as the Roach walked in. Upon realization, the scowl from Jude meant to match Cardan’s confusion, did he turn and face away. He cleared his throat, staring at the floor. “Jude, there is something I must show you,” he said, a hazardous caution in his voice. Without another word, he turned and left, leaving Jude and Cardan to their own. 

Jude glanced at Cardan, who was too busy watching flowers bloom above their bed to notice that she’d gotten up. She slipped her doublet on again, fumbling with the clasps and took a step over to the entrance to one of the secret Court of Shadows rooms that the Roach had left open for her. Cardan stood, joining her, and was met with a firm hand on his chest. “You’re drunk,” Jude said, gently pushing him back onto the bed. With few options and little other thought, Cardan complied. Jude left down the hall, closing the door behind her. 

The hallway walls were littered with heavy vines, dark and weighted. They swayed slightly, even without a breeze, as if saying “Hello.” Or maybe, “Goodbye.” Jude had been down these halls several times, might’ve been able to walk them blindly, though the lack of light from lanterns or torches nearly provided. The walk seemed to stretch uncharacteristically, something unusual for the short halls that wrapped around other rooms. When she reached the door at the end, the heavy wooden door towering over her, the vines reaching for her from the cracks in the walls; everything around her screaming, something wasn’t right.

Jude felt the dread coil in the bottom of her stomach, felt the anticipation build in her chest. She felt like she was going to burst. Jude reached for the door handle, the cold metal burning under her fingers. She opened the door, half expecting the coil of dread to jump out at her like a snake ready to strike.

The Ghost and the Roach stood behind a table, glanced between each other, then at her. Jude closed the door behind her and stopped short in front of them, raising a single brow and crossing her arms. It was unsettlingly silent, a single moment stretched into what felt like an hour. Something in the air shifted, and whatever this was, it was steadily becoming much bigger than having something _just_ be wrong.

Jude raised her head, acknowledging whoever it need be, to whoever would tell her what was going on. The Ghost looked at the table in between them steadily, then at Jude. “Say someone was poisoned,” he said. Judes eyebrows knitted together. “Say there wasn’t an antidote. What would you do about it?”

“What’s this about?” Jude said, pinching the bridge of her nose. There was a pull again, something familiar, and strange. There was something at the back of her mind, like a word you can’t place, like a name you can’t recall. Something, but nothing.

No answer. They can’t lie, and they didn’t want to tell her the truth. Jude sighed at the realization and caved. “What’s this poison supposed to do?”

“Stop someone’s heart,” the Roach supplied, finally giving answer to one of Jude’s building questions.

Jude thought for a moment, staring off somewhere in the distance. “Let it,” she said, filling the growing silence that gnawed at everyone in the worst ways.

The Roach cleared his throat, again. “Let it stop their heart?” Did she realize how that sounded?

“Let it stop their heart,” Jude said again, as if her repeating would correct their misunderstanding. “Then,” she continued. “Restart it.”

The Ghost scoffed, mirroring Jude with crossed arms. “Bring someone back to life? You know that’s not possible.”

Jude cocked her head slightly, debating how she should answer the questions they didn’t ask. “In the mortal world,” she started. “There’s something called CPR. Basically, it restarts someone’s heart. But there’s a small timeframe where it works, and I can’t do it. Vivi might be able to, or maybe Heather.” The Roach turned to the Ghost and gave him a single nod, queuing him to leave. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?” She felt the heat rise in her voice, and felt no sympathy. What was this, and why wouldn’t they just tell her?

“Jude, listen—” the Roach said, not making eye contact. The Bomb walked in, promptly cutting him off. She nods too, something heavy and sorrowful. No one looked at Jude.

She stepped up and slammed her hands on the table. The sharp smack grabbed everyone’s attention, giving the Bomb and the Roach little room to do anything other than look at her. “What,” Jude said, a cold edge in her voice. “The _Hell_ is going on?” She said the words slowly, hoping that if she’d said them clearly enough, they’d understand what she was saying. That they’d understand it wasn’t a request.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The vines that clung to the walls shivered, seemingly from the chill in her voice. Another glance was exchanged.

The Bomb looked up at her, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s Cardan.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“It’s Cardan.”_

There’s a silence; thick and heavy and unsolicited. It was the kind of silence that choked the words out of you, stole the air from your lungs. The kind of silence that grew like a flame that was fed by discontent and lack of acknowledgment. This was the kind of silence that bore weight and adorned grief, the kind that pushed thoughts from your head and the heat from your voice. This was the silence that kills.

It coiled around Jude’s throat, sending sharp spikes of trepidation through her body like chills. She felt her fingers turn to ice, her body suddenly heavy with the strain of utter dread. Her pulse echoed off every cavity of her skull, the heavy pounding in her head losing rhythm. Its relentless, unyielding core with the boldness of constricting conviction threatening to detonate. 

Jude allowed herself the small indulgent, the short-lived pleasure of her plan. But with no cure, no remedy, Cardan would die with or without her plan. Someone called her name. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, how long ago they’d told her the truth. “Excuse me,” she muttered, brushing a hand off her shoulder and pushing past them into the hallway. 

She’d just gotten Cardan back, and now she was expected to lose him again? What was it going to take to keep him alive, what was the price? Jude stepped out into the main hallway and wandered aimlessly until she reached the brugh. Remnants of the revel were littered across the floor, it’s patrons sowed throughout the palace lawn beneath tents watching the lightning with awe; shards of glass decorated the ground like glitter in one corner, bits of clothing missing their person scattered around the room. 

Early-morning sunlight shone through the window, the array of fractured light scattering off the golden accents of the room, the rays bright against the throbbing in her head. Lightning crackled, illuminating the dark corners of the hall that candlelight couldn’t reach. The thunder shook Jude’s core, sending her to her knees. Nothing was right with the world. 

Jude looked up to the thunderous array of colour and sound out the window, felt the ache in her chest with every pulse of lighting — just as splintered as her heart. Something thrummed deep inside her as a sudden, soft wind snuffed out the remaining candles. Lightning struck close to the window, it’s glass blowing inwards and littering Jude’s hair like a crown of stars. The room was choked in darkness, suffocating in the cold release of death as destruction wrought flames of iron and steel unto the whole of pity and suffrage in her name. 

Jude swallowed the darkness, bringing her knees to her chest. Her fingers tingled and the flowers in the room withered in seeming plumes of black smoke, something meant to combat the smothering refuge of cool darkness. The wind ripped through the remnants of the glass that clung to the window frame, whipped through her hair.

Jude stood, shaking the glass from her hair and pushing it away from her face, slowly making her way back to her chambers. The wind tailed her the whole way, blowing out the candles as she passed them and setting light to a whole new scene. Jude pushed open the door to the sitting room, revealing Vivi and Heather on the couch, fingers intertwined. The rest of the Court of Shadows lingered in the corner, and no one seemed to be too sure of what to do with themself.

The Roach and the Bomb exchanged a glance as Jude came to a stop in the doorway, leaning her weight onto the door as she closed it behind her. “Vivienne does not know CPR,” the Bomb said, her voice a quiet whisper that broke the silence still. “But Heather does.” She placed a hand on Jude’s shoulder. 

“I learned in summer camp a couple of years back,” Heather said in confirmation. Jude nodded, stepping out of the Bomb’s hold and past the rest of the group. 

She stepped into the bedroom where Cardan lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He wore a loopy smile as flowers bloomed at his fingertips; as the land beneath him woke at his touch. Cardan looked at Jude, and his smile grew.

She hovered in the doorway as she broke her gaze with him. She felt her eyes well with tears and she felt silly. Silly for running away, silly for leaving him alone. Silly, silly, silly.

Cardan drawled out her name, now sitting, as he woke her from her daze of self-deprecating thoughts. Her name rolled off his tongue with grace drunken people shouldn’t have, even if Cardan wasn’t drunk. Jude took small steps to the bed, the expanse between them a growing ocean of melancholy, the icy waves pushing them farther apart even as she grew closer. She met the corner of the bed and, picking up her knees, crawled to where he sat.

Cardan opened his arms to her, held her tightly. He held her as if she was the one who would disappear, as if it were her that would slip away. Jude curled into him, listening to his heartbeat pound against his skin.

She hadn’t realized she’d done it, how she’d let it all out. The loud, awful sobs leaving her body shuddering in their wake, tears burning her skin as they slipped over her cheeks. Cardan hugged her tighter.

His senses slurred together as his vision swam. At some point, they’d shifted to hold each other. Jude had managed to weave small braids into Cardan’s hair from where she sat, propped up against the headboard. There was a knock on the door, it’s sharp noise echoing through her head, scattering her thoughts. 

Jude felt a thumb brush over her cheek and looked up at Cardan again, his gaze startlingly piercing. “I won’t lose you again,” she said, taking his hand from her cheek and placing it in her own.

Cardan brought her fingers to his mouth, brushing her knuckles against his lips softly, the whisper of a promise traced over her skin. “No, you won’t.”

The handle twisted, illuminated solely by the lightning that flashed behind the curtains, revealing a ringing peal of thunder. The heavy sound seemed to draw the light of the room with it, leaving them submerged in the fear that lingered in their chests. The curtains shuddered from a ghastly breeze as the thunder shook the glass behind them.

He spoke softly, then. “You’ll see me again.” Vivi walked through the door, Heather in tow, and sat down on a chair of roots and shivering vines in a close corner. The Court of Shadows wasn’t far behind, stepping over the threshold a moment later, the heavy weight of death fresh in the air. 

“I love you,” she whispered into his hair. He kissed her forehead. She mouthed the words against his skin, the trace of promises making his hair stand on end, over and over and over; the litany making nearby plants shudder as the gods listened with macabre interest. “Stay.” 

She sucked in a breath, deep and heavy, then exhaled just as much. The wind whipped through the trees outside the window, leaving them as barren of leaves as she felt of armour. Jude took another deep breath.

 _This has to work,_ she told herself. _It has to._ So it would.

Cardan’s breath hitched when he gazed up at his wife for perhaps the millionth time that night. The same way it did every time he looked at her. He brought a shaking hand up to her cheek, brushed a tear away with his thumb, swept stray bits of glass out of her hair.

He looped his fingers with hers as the wind died, as the trees stood upright again. Jude shook with the fear that she’d allowed to settle into her bones, with the anger that boiled in her blood. With the love that lived in her breath and left her with a shaky exhale. 

The sun peaked out from behind the clouds, its golden light mocking the deep depths of Jude’s aching mind, the oceans that poured out of her eyes and slammed against every colourful thought she ever had. The cold that chilled to the bone and worshiped the moon in it’s waking hours. The waters that spilled over her skin as she choked back every tear she could, as she swallowed her emotions and shoved them down into her throbbing chest.

_Ten._

Warm sunlight poured into the rooms of the royal chambers. Jude shivered anyways.

_Nine._

No wind howled in the trees, screamed like she wished she could.

_Eight._

No rain pounded on the glass, begged to join into the aching devastation.

_Seven._

No birds chirped some sorrowful song, mourned the loss of someone they never knew.

_Six._

The cold, deep quiet was deafening. No one moved. Especially not Cardan.

_Five._

No more barely hidden looks during court meetings.

_Four._

No more whispered _I love you_ ’s as they fell asleep.

_Three._

No more Cardan.

_Two._

Heather moved to stand beside Cardan, opposite Jude. When had she moved from the chair?

_One._

The Ghost reached for Jude’s shoulder, tugging her gently, pulling her to her feet. _No,_ she whispered to herself. She echoed it, louder and louder and louder as she clung to her husband. Lightning struck in the open valley as the sun shone, the clouds few and scattered, their depth barren. 

Now, as her weight rested on someone else, did he look horribly, hauntingly beautiful. For a brief moment, Jude wondered if Cardan had ever looked at her the way she thought about him, and if he’d ever do it again.

The Bomb and the Roach moved to her other side, each placing a hand on her other arm. Her legs gave beneath her as she crumbled to her knees and took everyone else with her. The entirety of the remaining Court of Shadows lay on top of each other as Jude whispered to herself. There, on her knees, she prayed. She prayed to whatever god would listen. And though this was not the first time she prayed on her knees, she was certain that this was the first time she prayed like _this._

The tender flowers that stung her gaze withered a deep gray in the placid sunlight. Rotting petals drowned with murky, black ink dripped down the bedposts.

And, even with whatever lies beyond the life anyone could conceive, all eyes were on Cardan. Even still, was he disgustingly pretty; perhaps in a way that no one else was or could be.

Heather tilted his head back, laced her fingers over top of her other hand, and brought her ear down to his chest. Then, she pushed. She pushed down on his chest hard, and fast.

Jude raked her fingernails down her cheeks as the wind fell from its chase of the sky. Her entire world was laid out before her; bare of breath and urgency as little life coursed through his veins.

Her head spun in endless circles, a dizzying drought of hope at her heels, her hands an empty numb. Happier hallucinations plagued her vision, her thoughts, her ears. She succumbed to them like the madness that had begun to burn into her brain. Like Cardan had nearly fallen off the bed in trying to get to her, like he was still here with her, like he had followed her broken sobs to push away the tears from her cheeks. 

And he hadn’t, he hadn’t. Even if he had, he hadn’t. Because he had gone to a place that she could not follow, somewhere she would give so much to try. There was a hand clamped to her shoulder, shaking her from her wilted thoughts. 

“Jude, look!” 

Cardan sat propped up on his elbows, his world as dizzy as Jude looked. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

His voice cut like steel through the chaos, the cracked tremble enough to make her heart split in two. He called for her, nothing else. And it was like she’d never left.

She’d tripped over herself and nearly tore off a shoe to get him, all to curl back into place beside him, to gently run her fingers through his hair again and to have them snag in the tiny braids. 

She couldn’t have left him to wake alone, no matter how much it hurt her to see him a broken figure again. He had to wake up. He had to. And he did, he did. Even if it hadn’t quite felt like it yet, he did. 

She cupped his face in her hands like he was made of porcelain and petals and kissed him even softer. There was everything gentle about the way she held him to her, though there was everything ruined about the way she felt inside. The desolation that lay root in her chest, even if everything was okay. The disgusting heat in her cheeks, the sticky fabric clinging to her skin, wet with tears. Cardan wrapped an arm around Jude’s waist. Now she wasn’t alone either. 

A hand placed on his shoulder brought him back to the ever-spinning present. The Roach stood at his side, mouthing the words _welcome back_. Cardan gave a tired smile in return.

“You almost died,” Jude whispered against him. “You know what that means?”

Cardan’s voice was hardly any louder. “Yes. It’s Friday.” There were a couple light chuckles throughout the room as the air shifted greatly with each breath the High King inhaled. 

“It means we need to plot to find the bastard,” the Roach supplied.

The next few hours were rushed in planning. Whoever had managed to slip the High King poison wasn’t going to get away with it. They couldn’t. Jude had said so. 

And with Cardan’s fever-dream-like memory of someone brushing against his arm as he watched his wife from across the room, the revelers had been invited back inside as per the High Queen’s request. 

Sunlight shone brightly through the cracked glass windows, cascades of rainbows displayed against the floor. Belladonnas strung themselves above Jude’s throne, stretches of ivy grew over the cracks in the walls. It waved to her in an invisible breeze, welcoming back someone who felt somewhere still so far away. Soft music played from the band in the far corner, something like a lullaby to anyone who dared to listen close enough. 

Jude walked out onto the dais with an ease one ought not to have for being recently widowed. But thankfully, to the hearts of anyone who had wished to live, she was not. The room smelled like lavender and sleep as she tried to pick out who it had been that had poisoned Cardan from his sleepy description. 

He was easy enough to find from her spot on the dais, wearing a blue tunic with wine red accents along the sleeves and golden orbs hanging from his pointed ears. She locked eyes with him from across the room as something deeply wicked spread onto her face, a sinful pain wrought in iron flames, the true gluttony of greed and wrath. Jude watched the deep shudder roll up his spine, mimicking cold glare she sent his way. The crowd parted around her gaze like a tornado cleared path; the raw cold of a make like carnage and blood beneath ice. 

Cardan walked out moments later, his step easy and graceful and everything it absolutely shouldn’t be for someone who is supposed to be dead. The belladonnas above Jude’s throne bloomed and at once, the smell of lavender was greatly overweighed, the lyrical salve among the sleepy dancers gone. Cardan kissed his wife’s cheek and took her hand in his before turning to the man in the center of the poisonous isolation. He chuckled lowly, it was like a deep wave crashing against her senses, something that erupted from the bottom of his throat and caught her off guard; Jude thought she could live in the sound. Everything lively drained from the man’s face, his hands clamped against his side as he faced the High King who was still very much alive. 

The blanket of silence that fell over the brugh was hardly unnoticeable, the deafening quiet something far from anything conjured by imagination, the sole filler being the distant ring of destruction in suffocation. 

Cardan spoke, his voice not unlike a crack of thunder on a dry afternoon. “I do hope you’re a fast runner.” 


End file.
